Spartan Daily - Serving San Jose State University since 1934

The other day I had lunch with an old friend. And like all old friends who rarely see each other, we are in the habit of sharing the intimate details of our lives whenever we get together.

This time she was sharing about how it is the policy of her new boyfriend, who is of a different culture than her, to not allow her to meet any of his friends.

"It's OK though," she said.

"I don't mind. It's cultural."

It did not sound like any sort of culture that I had ever heard of, unless you count that small subculture of men who treat their women like dogs. Then again, I have not heard of all cultures, though I had always been pretty familiar with the one she was telling me about.

She wanted to know what I thought.

"It sounds like bull---- to me," I told her.

"But it's cultural."

"Who says?"

"He says."

"It's cultural in some countries to stone their women for cheating on their husbands," I said, "and that's bull----, too."

She insisted that it was a normal cultural practice and said that she was all right with it, so we dropped it and went on to talk about how he had gotten mad at her the other night for overcooking his steak.

Still, this forced segregation did not sound normal to me, so later I asked another friend of mine about it.

"Does that sound normal to you?" I asked him.

"No," he said, "though some men are like that. You remember that man we knew who kept his girlfriend upstairs whenever his friends came around."

"He was crazy though. I was always waiting for the police to come take him away."

"Perhaps your friend's boyfriend does it so none of his friends will try to sleep with her."

"You don't think he's cheating on her?"

"Has she met his family?"

"Yes."

"It is possible that he has another girlfriend. He may have many. I have many," he said proudly, "though they all know about each other and do not mind it because I am so wonderful."

It was at this point that I thought I might be talking to the wrong man.

"Most likely, though," he said, "it is to keep his friends away from her. Is she cute?"

"Pretty cute," I admitted. "He must have some lousy friends. None of my friends would try to sleep with a girl I brought around."

"That's because you never have any with you," he said, "though the last one was, if you don't mind me saying, extremely beautiful. Almost too beautiful for a scrub like you. What ever happened with her, anyway?"

I remembered what had happened with her, and decided I didn't want to talk about it. "Never mind what happened," I told him. "What do you think I ought to tell my friend?"

"Is she a good friend?"

"Yes."

"Do you like her? By that I mean, have you any romantic interest in her?"

"Maybe once, but not anymore."

"You say she is cute?"

"Somewhat cute, yes."

"Tell her to dump her boyfriend, and hook up with you." He grinned. "Then bring her around, and I'll jump her."

"I need new friends," I said.

"It wouldn't do you any good," he said. "You'll never be rid of us. We will stick by you for life, and would only take one of your girlfriends with your permission. Have I your permission?"

"Go to hell," I told him. "And stay the hell away from my friend."

"Aren't you going to bring her around?"

"Not around you. You're a dog."

"I can't help it," he said. "It's cultural."

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